The Other Side
by E4flying
Summary: Inspired by "My love, take your time. I'll see you on the other side", "Oh, I can't wait to see you again. It's only a matter of time", and "Who lives, who dies, who tells your story".
1. The Man

**Author's Note:**

 **While the characters in this story were once living people, I have done very little research on them before writing this. Therefore, the characters I've written are based on the personalities portrayed in the musical Hamilton. Also, the experience of an after-life reflects no specific religious beliefs (including mine). I hope you enjoy the story!**

* * *

 _I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. Is this where it gets me, on my feet, several feet ahead of me? If I see it coming, do I run or fire my gun or let it be? There is no beat, no melody. Burr, my first friend, my enemy. Maybe the last face I ever see. If I throw away my shot, is this how you'll remember me? What if this bullet is my legacy? Legacy. What is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me. America, you great unfinished symphony, you sent for me. You let me make a difference, a place where even orphan immigrants can leave their fingerprints and rise up. I'm running out of time. I'm running and my time's up. Wise Up. Eyes up. I catch a glimpse of the other side. Laurens leads a soldier's chorus on the other side. My son is on the other side. He's with my mother on the other side. Washington is watching from the other side. Teach me how to say goodbye. Rise up, rise up, rise up, Eliza. My love, take your time. I'll see you on the other side. Raise a glass to freedom…_

The light is blinding. He blinks, but even his eyelids don't shield him from the brightness. It seems to engulf him, almost like it's a part of him.

He doesn't feel pain, which is strange. He could've sworn he'd seen Aaron Burr raise his gun, he could've sworn he felt the bullet strike him between his ribs. He could've sworn he was in a boat, across the Hudson, then put in a bed. He saw Angelica and Eliza by his bedside. He was almost sure.

But that doesn't explain the white light, and the sensation of floating. He moves his arms, but they don't seem to come into contact with anything. He can't feel a floor beneath him.

So, Alexander relaxes. He let's himself sink into the bright abyss he's found himself in, and simply exists. Time passes-maybe a minute, maybe years, he has no way of knowing-but slowly, he begins to feel changes around him. The light is solidifying, and he becomes acutely aware of the position of his body. He flexes his legs and realizes he's standing. Given the new development, he starts to walk.

As he advances (although towards what he doesn't know), the light around him condenses into the floor he's walking on. There doesn't seem to be walls anywhere, or a ceiling, but he has a very strong feeling that he's going in the right direction.

Eventually he reaches a wall. It comes out of nowhere, and he almost walks into it. He stares at it for a second, his head tilted slightly.

"Hello?" his voice comes out clear and strong, even though he feels like he hasn't used it in a while.

As soon as the word leaves his mouth, a part of the wall lights up. It says in big, black letters: ALEXANDER HAMILTON. And then the wall splits in half directly through the middle of his name, and he gets his first glimpse of the other side.

Alexander takes a step, and he feels information flood his brain.

There are people everywhere. There has to be, when it is full with everyone who's ever died, and it expands as more people arrive.

It's mostly just white floor. There are no doors, no walls, nothing separating people. Everyone arrives wearing the same thing: a grey tunic, comfortably looped over the shoulders to keep from falling off.

There is no hunger, or thirst, or even sleeping. No one has bodily needs, nor is there anything that would satisfy them. In fact, there's nothing other than the floor and the people.

 _No quills or paper,_ Alexander thinks sadly.

But the information filling his brain reminds him that there's no more need to write.

At some point, white floor gives way to glass. Like a window into the living world, he can use it to see anywhere and everywhere he'd like to. He can hear conversations, see private meetings, and even observe two places at once.

And with enough concentration, the glass below him will disappear, and he'll find himself beside the living. He will exist there as a ghost, seeing but not able to be seen, or touched. However, Alexander already feels the loneliness that causes, and knows he'll prefer to observe from above, as most do.

But mainly, Alexander realizes, the other side is used for discussion. Everyone is here; loved one's, old rivals, historical figures, and great-great-great grandchildren.

And with his second step, Alexander Hamilton already knows who he wants to find.


	2. The Son

Even before Alexander can properly look around, a body comes flying at him and wraps him up in a tight hug.

"Philip," Alexander says, his voice breaking in the crook of his son's shoulder.

"Pa."

Time doesn't have much meaning here, but when they break apart, enough of it has passed that both their cheeks are wet with tears.

They stand for a while just taking each other in.

"I didn't want you to die," Philip says. "But I'm proud that you pointed your gun towards the sky."

Alexander smiles. "That means more than you know, son."

They set off at a slow walk, meandering in between kissing couples and heated discussions and what appears to be a giant group hug.

"So what's been going on on this side?" Alexander asks.

Philip laughs. "Nothing goes on, really. We talk, we watch."

"Who have you spoken to?"

"I spent a long time talking to Grandma. I learned a lot about her."

Alexander smiles. "I kind of had the feeling you didn't love to spend that much time with her, back when we used to visit."

Philip grins, his eyebrows raised. "Not mom's mom, your mom."

Alexander's eyes widen. "And… well, did you get along?"

"She's great, Dad. She's proud of you, and excited to see you. She said she always knew you would amount to more than life on that island."

"Who else?" Alexander asks, suddenly eager as he realizes the extent of everyone he can talk to.

"George and I have had some interesting conversations."

"George Washington?"

"We traded some interesting stories about you," Philip says, laughing.

"I don't even want to know," Alexander says. He turns to Philip and pulls him into a big hug. "I've missed you so much."

They keep walking, father and son laughing at old stories and almost-forgotten memories together.

"Oh," Philip says at some point, "I know there's a lot of people you need to see, but make sure that someday you meet Socrates. I think you would enjoy talking to him."


	3. The Wife

Alexander has been watching her for a while. He's taken to spending days at the glass, looking at her face, watching her watch the orphans she sees every day. Angelica, who died some time earlier, starts watching too. They both know the time is soon. There is something about the other side that alerts them to when their loved ones are close.

Alexander waits for her at the place he knows she'll arrive. She steps through the wall, just as he did, and looks around.

Alexander is there, in front of her. "Eliza, my dear," he whispers as he draws her in close.

"Alexander." Her voice breaks, and tears stream down her cheeks.

"I'm so proud of you," he says when they finally break apart.

"I did it all for you," Eliza responds.

Alexander steps aside for a minute and watches the joyful embrace of the two Schuyler sisters, and it reminds him of the day, so long ago, when Angelica returned from England. It brightened both their faces to be reunited that day, as it does now.

Angelica lets go of Eliza's hand, and Alexander grabs her again. He can't help it; he's watched her for so long, he's missed her so much. He pulls her in for a long kiss, relishing the feeling of his lips on hers. The kiss communicates so much that they don't have to say in words: their love for each other, the admiration they hold for the actions of the other, and the forgiveness for all past misdeeds. They have an eternity to spend together, and this time they're going to do it right.

"I was watching you," murmurs Alexander in a low voice. "You've accomplished so much. The Washington monument?"

Eliza smiles. "I thought you'd like that one."

"George would like to thank you for it. He was really pleased when it went up."

"Are you two finally getting along?"

Alexander laughs. "Our differences aren't so different here." It's true; after people die, they seem to let go of all arguments they had when they were living. Alexander had even spent some time with Aaron Burr after his death, and their conversations were quite cordial.

Eliza squeezes his hand. "How's Philip?"

"He's excited to see you again," Alexander responds. "I had to convince him to give me some time with you first."

Alexander stops walking and turns to face Eliza. There are tears in his eyes again. "The orphanage," he says.

She smiles.

"It was beautiful. I-" he seems at a loss for words, something that almost never happens. He swallows. "You did an amazing thing."

She leans in and kisses him on the cheek. "I saw you in those children. In their eyes, in their ambition, in their fears and their dreams."

Alexander smiles. "I love you so much, you know that?"

Eliza laughs, and leans into his side, as they continue to walk together. "Helplessly in love, the two of us."


	4. The Writer

Alexander enjoys his time on the other side very much. It suits him; rather than writing, he engages in passionate, intellectual discussions with nearly everyone he can, from every era before him.

He sees old friends, and apologizes for mistakes. He sees old enemies, and accepts others' apologies.

And often, he watches the world. He and John Laurens pay particularly close attention to a new political figure when he comes around, a man by the name of Abraham Lincoln. He and Eliza watch their grandchildren, then their great-grandchildren, carry on their lineage. He watches closely beside his old friend Marquis de Lafayette when a battalion of German soldiers enter France, using weapons they would never even have dreamed of when they were at war.

And Alexander finds himself spending more time beside Thomas Jefferson. Thomas has acknowledged the brilliance of Alexander's financial system, and Alexander has acknowledged Thomas's presidential successes, and thus a peace has been created between them. They spend most of their time together observing American politics and debating, as they used to in George Washington's cabinet meetings.

"You know I'm far more popular than you are," Thomas says one day.

"Yes, that much is obvious. If only they would teach the correct account of history in schools these days."

Thomas laughs, and Alexander joins in. It is an ongoing argument between the two: who is more well known among the living at the time. It joins the arguments they have over legislation and supreme court cases, but it is the only argument that Alexander consistently loses.

"But you owned slaves!" Alexander argues. "I don't understand how in today's age, when slavery has long since been abolished, people continue to say your name before mine even gets thought of when the 'Founding Fathers' is brought up."

"I was more glorious," Thomas says.

"That you were," Alexander concedes. "Glorious in all your elitist opinions, your wardrobe choices, your servants feeding you at Monticello." He says 'Monticello' exactly as he used to, with sarcasm in his voice.

"Don't tell me you're jealous."

Alexander laughs. "Something will give, and I'll be far more famous than you. Just you wait."

It's years later in living time, and Alexander is spending time with John, when he feels something. A small tug, a little hint. He's gotten it before, when a loved one is about to die, but this one feels different. There is some power on the other side that alerts you to when something is happening in the living world that you would like to see, but usually the taps and nudges have a name attached.

Nevertheless, Alexander knows he can't ignore it. He makes his way over to the glass, and feels himself directed to look at a young man. He is sitting in front of what Alexander has learned is a computer, with rather large headphones over his ears. There doesn't seem to be anything particularly special about him.

But Alexander watches. For days, then weeks. He starts to get an idea of why this man is important to him, and with that comes excitement. He starts to feel like he knows this man. They're not that different, really.

Alexander sees him get an invitation from the White House. He knows what the young man is about to do.

He calls to Thomas, who comes over quickly. Thomas thinks it's another major policy shift that they're going to argue, and is surprised to find he's been called over about a man with a theater degree. At the last minute, Alexander calls Aaron Burr over as well.

"What's this about?" Aaron asks.

"Just watch."

The three watch as the man steps up and grabs the microphone.

"I'm thrilled the White House called me tonight because I'm actually working on a hip-hop album. It's a concept album about the life of someone I think embodies hip-hop: Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton."

Thomas turns to face Alexander, his eyebrows raised.

"I think my legacy is about to get a boost," Alexander says, smiling.

They turn back to the man, who is still speaking. "...became Treasury Secretary, caught beef with every other founding father…"

Aaron laughs. "That's certainly accurate. Did you call me over here just to witness your newfound popularity?"

The man continues: "Anything you need to know? I'll be playing Vice President Aaron Burr."

Aaron: "Oh, great."

The three men watch, Alexander with a proud grin on his face and Thomas with a small smile. Aaron, on the other hand, looks like he just swallowed something bitter.

And so it begins: Alexander watches this man, Lin-Manuel Miranda, on his journey to writing what Alexander can only hope will become a popular musical. Hip-hop was something he wasn't totally versed in, but he feels that the musical is on its way to portraying him and his spirit very well.

On the night that the play opens, he decides to descend down among the living to watch. He is unable to convince anyone to join him, as it is rather uncomfortable for them to spend prolonged amounts of time beside the living, but he knows that Thomas and Eliza at the very least will be watching from above. He watches his life story told by someone else, and he can't stop smiling through the whole thing. Somehow, this crazy son of Puerto Rican immigrants captures his life in song almost perfectly. And what's more, it looks like it is catching on like wildfire.

Suddenly, nearly everyone knows his name. It seems the days that he was only known by social studies teachers and history buffs are long gone; he has become a popular icon. He watches as the treasury department decides not to take his face off of the ten dollar bill, laughing with Philip about the poems that he wrote as a nine-year-old. For a while he steadily avoids Aaron, only initiating a conversation when Aaron's character, not Alexander's, wins the Tony award.

And when people keep dying, they start to want to talk to him, some even more than George. It's strange to suddenly become famous for things he did way back when he was living, but he enjoys it all the same.

And then one day, he feels it happening. He waits, gives the man time, but finds him a few days after the arrives.

"Lin," he calls, seeing his retreating figure.

The man turns around, and his eyes widen. "Mr. Hamilton." There's awe in his voice, and Alexander knows it's a side-effect of just having died.

"Alexander, please," he says. "I want to thank you." He reaches out his hand, and gives him a strong handshake.

"I think I should be thanking you."

"Why don't we walk?"

Alexander and Lin set off, in step with each other.

Lin turns to Alexander, "I have some questions."

 **The end.**


End file.
